


Time for Two

by paranoid_fridge



Category: Pokemon GO
Genre: (the science of pleasure), Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Light BDSM, Oral Sex, experimenting, it's a silk sash, it's all for science, two girls having fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 04:58:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7604404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paranoid_fridge/pseuds/paranoid_fridge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Candela and Blanche leave a fancy party in order to enjoy themselves more intimately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time for Two

**Author's Note:**

> Idk what happened. I saw the team leader designs. Then I saw fanart (also of the Blanche/Candela variety) and my brain came on fire. So many ideas O.o This one merely happened to get written first.
> 
> Anyhow, this resulted from my initial assumption that Blanche is female. Since then I've been leaning toward either genderfluid or non-binary for them, but that's not really part of this fic (maybe another). This is unrepentant femslash.

Faint cello notes drift after them as Candela and Blanche leave the party. The string quartet begins yet another lively tune while a warm summer breeze tugs at Blanche’s artfully pinned up hair. Candela has been studying her like a delicious piece of candy all evening - and the flush on Blanche’s cheeks makes it rather obvious that she knows.  

The entire outfit - the high heels that Blanche has been struggling to dance in the whole night, the heavy jewelry that probably cost as much as a fancy car, the complicated hairdo with its sparkling combs that took two hairdressers, and the stiff, ice blue dress with its glittering white stitches and crystal bird patterns that Candela laced up herself - is a truly delectable work of art. Candela knows she wasn’t the only one to admire it tonight (not one of the persons Blanche danced with complained about their feet getting stepped on), but she’s the only one who will enjoy these things coming off, too.

That and the cheerful melody following them put a spring in Candela’s step.

“Would you mind slowing down a bit?” Blanche calls after her, sounding grumpy and looking rather flushed. “This isn’t exactly an outfit to move in.”

Candela twirls around elegantly on her own heels. “Oh. But of course,” she chirps happily and links her arm with Blanche’s, making her stumble slightly. “It does look gorgeous, you know. And once we’re in our room, you won’t have to move at all anymore!”

Blanche flushes even more, and spurned on by the mood (and the two glasses of champagne she had), Candela disentangles herself to bend down and swoop Blanche up in her arms.

It is not as easy as she imagined, but Candela thrives on challenges. And Blanche’s little surprised exclamation is just a bonus. “Or I could just carry you there!”

Blanche grimaces, torn between laughing and glaring. Though apparently she is aware enough of Candela’s rather shaky balance that she doesn’t struggle.

Candela meanwhile contemplates if her balance will hold out if she leans forward for a kiss.

“But you know,” Blanche wheezes, interrupting Candela’s thoughts. “This isn’t a very good position to breathe.”

Which could also be blamed on the dress Candela laced a bit tightly, but that was only to show off Blanche’s slender waistline. It would be criminal to hide that.

For now though, she does set Blanche back on her feet and presses their lips fleetingly together in the movement. Blanche returns the gesture, and is smiling when Candela looks up again.

“Next time,” Blanche says as they resume their walk back to their joined room for the night, “You get the fancy dress and the heels.”

“Oh, but I’m wearing a fancy dress, too,” Candela snipes back, easily, “And look at my heels!” She lifts a leg, utterly unconcerned about how high the hemline of her red dress slips and rotates the foot.

“Unfair,” Blanche grumbles.

“You can pick up outfits next time,” Candela offers, knowing fully well (as everybody who spent prolonged time with Blanche does) that her sense of fashion is a wild mixture of items bought from cosplay shops, outdoor stores, and flea market items. People have called her a fashion disaster, but Candela has grown rather fond of Blanche’s eclectic and dorky style.

“I will,” Blanche mumbles, and maybe it’s meant as a threat, but the last time she went through with it Candela ended up in a sexy maid outfit, and she thinks she played the part rather well.

They finally reach the door to their room, and while Blanche fumbles to the key, Candela boxes her in, putting her hands on the door left and right of Blanche’s head and presses light kisses into the nape of her neck. A faint trace of perfume remains, but the soft skin texture under Candela’s lips makes her blood pulse.

Blanche gasps, stumbles, but at that moment the door swings open and Candela and Blanche both lose their hold.

They fall. Candela bravely attempts to catch herself by stepping forward, but her flailing hand meets air, while Blanche goes down straight. Candela lands on her back a split second later.

“That was elegant,” Blanche comments drily. “Ow.”

“Aww,” Candela uses the position to lean forward and nibble on the exposed skin of Blanche’s nape. “I'd rather say it got us into the right position.”

“The door is wide open,” Blanche replies and if it wasn't for the goosebumps on her skin one could think Candela’s lips had no effect on her. “Also I think I fell onto something.”

Candela kicks the door shut behind her and for a moment is tempted to engage action right here and now. But she'd rather see Blanche’s face.

“Yes, yes,” Candela declares as she climbs to her feet and remembers to lock the door lest tomorrow’s cleaning staff happens upon a surprise. “As milady wishes.”

Blanche grumbles, but makes no move to get up. Candela looks from her to the bed and frowns.

“Are you staying there?” she asks.

“Yes,” Blanche declares. And then she finally raises her face, cheeks flushed and puffed in faux annoyance. “You said I needn't move once we got to our room.”

Candela laughs. “Very well,” she declares and kicks her heels off.

This time she lifts Blanche in a rather blunt fireman’s carry. Blanche, who had expected a more gallant move, squeaks in protest.

“Don't complain,” Candela calls out, staggering slightly under her girlfriend’s weight. “I'm doing the lifting! I get to pick the pose.”

She fastens her grip on Blanche’s legs and uses her free arm to pat Blanche’s butt cheerfully. Blanche mock kicks her, but then stops her struggles. Candela smiles at the unusual display of obedience - at least until hands pinch her own butt.

She'd not admit it, but she squeaks.

“It's firm,” Blanche observers with a dry sense of fascination. “Quite muscular. I like it.”

Candela heaves a dramatic sigh. “Everybody only loves me for my butt and not my winning personality.”

Blanche does not stop kneading her butt (and it's a very nice sensation to be honest). “It is a very nice butt.”

Candela huffs, but as she's reaches the bed instead of snarking back she simply drops her baggage on the top of the covers.

Blanche lands on her back, squeals, bounces, and Candela uses the moment to pounce.

She settles on her knees and hands over Blanche, making sure to box her in, and demonstratively licks her lips. Blanche challengingly wiggles her eyebrows, and Candela dives forward into fiery kiss.

Blanche’s lips retain that hint of cinnamon (also testament that apparently Blanche had much more than one of those tiny cinnamon desserts), and Candela pushes forward, letting gravity pull her further down. Her tongue glides past welcoming lips, tangles with another, and slender hands reach up to bury themselves in Candela’s curls.

She deepens the kiss further, despite her own lungs demanding oxygen because her body demands the contact more. Blanche doesn't protest, though Candela can feel her quiver and it sends a spike of excitement down her back.

They break apart, faces flushed and breathing heavily. Blanche’s chest falls and rises rapidly, straining against the dress’ stiff fabric. One hand flops from Candela’s hair against the covers, and with glazed eyes she stares up.

“How … do you … do that?” she gasps out, while Candela’s hands slide over the slim curves of her waist. “Always… breathless. It's … illogical.”

Candela chuckles at that; trust Blanche to talk about logic even in this situation (she knows far too well that Blanche is far less logical than everybody believes. Just as Spark is less intuitive than he pretends, and Candela not quite as willing to throw herself headfirst into danger as people imagine).

“We could do a test series,” Candela suggests, her own voice hoarse. “Figure out the logic behind it.”

Blanche's hand tugs at Candela’s hair, pulling her closer. “That sounds like a promising endeavor,” she says, and then raises her head to press a light kiss on Candela’s lips. It sends a shiver down Candela’s spine - she follows her girlfriend down to recapture those cinnamon-tainted lips while her hands wander up, ghost over the soft skin of Blanche’s cheeks and then drift into pinned up pale hair.

This kiss is slower; they leisurely taste each other, soak in the warmth. Candela’s hands begin to undo the complicated hairstyle, pulling out glittering combs and jewel-studded pins. Blanche’s hands run from Candela’s hair over the back of her neck to her shoulders and cleverly find the dress’ zipper there.

Candela flings a number of hair ornaments carelessly to the side, before ending the kiss and sitting up. Blanche’s hair tumbles free of the bun, spilling over the silk bedcover like water. Her hands try to hold onto the zipper, but as Candela sits up it goes out of reach. Still, half-way down is more than enough to allow the dress to slip from Candela’s shoulders.

She sits up, making sure to park her weight securely over Blanche’s hips (and the contact there, despite layers of fabric between them is glorious), before reaching up to undo the hook of her bra as well, pull the zipper down fully, and untie the silk sash around her waist.

Blanche watches with a dazed smile as Candela wriggles out of her panties, pulls the dress over her head and flings it aside. Hands reach toward her bare breasts. The touch is electric; Candela can’t help the small moan that falls from her lips and Blanche smiles at her, presses a bit firmer.

Candela doesn’t exactly remember closing her eyes, but the breast massage makes her legs shake and her insides tremble with want. More, a part of her demands, more. She begins to rub their hips together, almost unconsciously, and only stops when a choked noise comes from Blanche and her hands begin to move frantically.

Candela reaches up to capture Blanche’s left wrist. Reaches behind her, fumbles blindly for the dress’ sash momentarily, while directing a toothy smirk at Blanche. “I have an idea,” she declares, holding up the sash and increasing the pressure on Blanche’s wrist.

Blanche’s eyes widen and the flush on her cheek darkens. Her lips move noiselessly for a moment; when the breathless “oh, yes” finally emerges Candela makes a mental note to explore this type of play more extensively in the future. For now her own body begins to demand more action; a steady pulse throbbing in her groin, which quickens when she wraps the sash in several loops around Blanche’s wrists, tying it off with a cute bow.

Then she leans forward, gently pressing her girlfriend’s tied hands onto the sheets above her head.

“Keep them -” she begins and then gasps for air as bold lips surge up to nip playfully at her right nipple. A shiver runs down her spine and she lowers her chest on purpose, pressing her breasts against Blanche’s face.

A cheeky tongue comes up to lick the areola and then teases its way around the nipple. Candela’s entire body tenses to the point that her toes curl, and then Blanche finally, finally envelopes the nipple in her mouth. Her tongue plays with it, soaking it in spit - and when she lets go of it, she blows a gust of cool air across that very wet nipple, and Candela makes a very weird noise.

Blanche chuckles in response, but Candela smothers her by pressing her upper body even lower. Instead of being intimidated, Blanche starts laughing, and the vibrations send the oddest echo through Candela’s breasts right into her spine and all the little hairs on her arms stand straight.

Apparently realizing what effect she is having, Blanche purposely attaches her mouth to Candela’s left breast and sucks hard. Candela barely hears the odd noise, electricity surging down her spine and sending sparks into her groin and brain. Blanche switches tactics, blows, and Candela can’t quite stop her spine from arching.

“This is amazing,” she mutters, breathlessly, her vision flickering, and she’s not quite sure how her legs and arms haven’t given out yet.

“Is it?” Blanche whispers softly, the words caressing the heated skin of Candela’s breasts like ghosts. “Shall we test the hypothesis for other areas, too?”

Is she -

Candela’s brain momentarily short-circuits. At least her mouth running on autopilot still manages “and where do you suppose we should start?” Or she hopes that is what she said. It may have come out utterly warbled.

Blanche giggles. The movement of air across Candela’s skin is like a thousand needles of pleasure teasing her skin.

“How about we work our way down from here?” Blanche emphasizes her words by licking a trail from Candela’s nipple down toward her ribcage, and only years of continuous workouts keep Candela’s limbs from just collapsing.

“Very well,” she agrees, her voice shaky and heated, and she shifts her weight forward. Blanche surges up, too (and if Candela’s muscles are getting a true work-out keeping her up, lifting her head to lick and blow and suck on the skin of Candela’s stomach must rather tax Blanche’s core muscles).

Small gasps from Candela and the wet sounds of lips meeting skin fill the room; it feels as if the temperature inside had risen and keeps rising, while Candela’s vision tunnels in. She’s blind to the world, blind to the shaking of her arms, to crinkling bedcovers. Only Blanche and she exist, and that talented tongue is making its way ever further downward.

Until at last a long, confident lick traces the skin down from her navel and meets the red-hot throb of her core. Feeling daring, Candela shifts her aching legs forward until she can lower her crotch right onto Blanche’s face. She casts a look at her girlfriend before proceeding - and receives an inviting nod.

What happens then is sheer magical.

As if she’d done this thousands of times before, Blanche begins to apply gentle pressure to Candela’s vulva, using her nose to rub little circles into the pubic hair, and all of a sudden Candela has a scream stuck in her throat as her nerve ending light up.

Bound hands reach up to toy with Candela’s breasts, gently kneading the sensitive skin. Then Blanche wriggles her tongue between those reddened lips, right into Candela’s clit. It teases the soft, sensitive skin expertly, licking and twisting, and trailing, and exploring, until one spot makes Candela gasp for air loudly. Blanche blows on it.

Candela chokes on a scream. Her spine arches, nerves on fire, and she’s not just close any longer, she’s -

A warm tongue flicks over that magic spot. Once, twice - Candela can’t breathe, can’t think - the tongue twirls, presses - something pinches her nipples - and it’s fireworks and lightning and explosions and sparks and her brain melting down.

“Ohgodohgodohgodohgod,” somebody is muttering in the background when Candela first becomes aware of her surroundings again. Belatedly she recognizes her own voice, notices her legs and arms are shaking badly, and her entire body seems to be on fire.

Blanche flickers her tongue against her clitoris again. Candela’s screeches, spine bending, as a second orgasm tears right through her.

She’s gasping for air when she recovers from that one, and barely manages to shift her hips down. Her nerve endings are screaming, fireworks still going off in her mind, and Blanche rather drily inquires “was it good?”

Candela looks over to her girlfriend to ascertain she’s not as unaffected as she sounds - and finds the skin around her lips glinting wetly, and it’s terribly exciting so she surges over and kisses Blanche. Tastes herself on those lips, tangles with that talented tongue that performed miracles just moments ago.

“Phenomenal,” Candela declares as they break for air. Her hand seeks out Blanche’s hair, stroking it, curling it between her fingers, while Blanche beams up at her.

“I did read a rather interesting article on this, and so I wondered…” Blanche begins, and Candela kisses her again. Trust Blanche to research even this in depth - how can one not love this dork?

They break for air again, and by now Candela’s nerves have calmed enough to return her higher brain functions to her. There are still rather random sparks flying through her vision, but she gathers what self-control she retains and declares: “I haven’t done research, so we may have to experiment.”

Blanche laughs, and Candela catches her hands and gently presses them down over Blanche’s head for a second time.

“Those stay here this time,” Candela demands when the little spikes have stopped stabbing her nerves, and presses down Blanche’s tied wrists, before sitting back up. Blanche beams up at her, hair in disarray, cheeks red, and Candela can’t help kissing her again. And again. Her girlfriend is just too pretty.

“Alright,” Blanche murmurs as their lips part, and shifts her hips slightly. Just enough to remind Candela that certain parts of her anatomy rather desire attention.

Candela shuffles back, nudging Blanche’s legs to either side of her and pushing the dress’ frilly hem upward.

“Shouldn’t we take the dress off?” Blanche asks, her voice somewhat choked.

Candela eyes that chest struggling to expand for a moment. (The fabric isn’t so tight it couldn’t burst). She’d like touching her girlfriend’s skin - but she can do that later, too.

“No,” Candela declares. “It looks too good on you.” She wriggles her eyebrows, and Blanche hmphs, but then Candela dives down to tug a pair of wet, lacy panties down, and the noise becomes a gasp.

Candela runs her hands teasingly up the inside of Blanche’s thighs, tracing invisible patterns with her fingertips, while she softly blows onto the heated skin of Blanche’s vulva. Tiny jerks and trembles reward her. Then she places her hands gently yet firmly on the outsides of the mound and pulls the lips apart.

Blanche gasps lightly. Candela lowers her head, gives the skin there a tentative lick, and Blanche jerks, her spine curving, fingers clenching in the bedcovers.

“Do you like that?” Candela asks, huskily, deliberately letting the vibrations from her lips carry right onto the soft and wet skin of Blanche’s inner parts. A garbled moan is the answer, and Candela dives back in. Places feathery kisses all over those heated glands, rubs her fingers in little circles on the outside of it.

And little by little she directs her tongue lower, Blanche is gasping and making all sorts of tiny, choked noises, her legs twitch and flinch with every lick Candela takes. Until she finds the spot that makes Blanche arch like a bowstring, a choked scream escapes her lips, and an echo of those fireworks trails down Candela’s spine. She intensifies her efforts, tracing tiny circles with her tongue, massaging the outside skin more firmly.

Blanche squeals, her hips momentarily lifting off the sheets.

When she bounces back, Candela places a hand on her hips, forcing them down, and she can feel them quiver while she labs off the wetness. Blanche makes a multitude of tiny noises, not quite words, not quite sounds, and it’s like music to Candela’s ears. Only when the shivers begin to subside she lets up, and lifts her head.

Blanche looks utterly undone; eyes half-shut, cheeks flushed and shining, and her hair all over the place.

“This was delicious,” Candela declares before Blanche is coherent enough to form words again. Her own muscles have begun to feel heavy with satisfied exhaustion, but Candela forces them to pull her up over Blanche’s body and draw her girlfriend into one deeper kiss.

Bound hands come up and around Candela’s neck, and she can feel how those arms yet tremble, and lets the kiss end quite leisurely. With one hand she reaches up and with a bit of fumbling finds the ribbon that holds the tied sash together. Pulls it, and immediately Blanche makes use of her freed hands to run them all over Candela’s face and skin.

“That,” she declares, breathless, “was amazing.”

Candela smiles as warmth blossoms in her chest. “But is this evidence enough to support a thesis?”

Blanche giggles airily. “We will have to conduct further research.”

And they will. But probably not tonight. Maybe tomorrow morning, though.

“I wanna take the dress off,” Blanche says just when Candela is on the brink of drifting off.

“Alright,” she replies sleepily and forces her tired limbs to spring into action. Blanche doesn’t look much more awake.

That is until the dress comes off. They look at each other. Blanche bites her lower lip. Candela wriggles her eyebrows.

“We continue the research now?”


End file.
